A Song of Guns and Fire
by Kal-El Fornia
Summary: When the Godfather Robert Baratheon dies, the different mafia families of Westeros County engage in a violent gang war for control of the Seven Cities.
1. The Machinist

The other day I had a thought pop into my head where I wondered how **Game of Thrones** would have been had the setting been in something more modern day, and instead of Houses of nobility the characters were mafia families instead. It wouldn't leave my mind and prevented me from writing anything else, and thus this story here was born. It's well enough at the end of the day though, considering I wanted to step into writing for **Game of Thrones** anyways.

As this chapter is just the prologue it's shorter, but my intention for future chapters and how I'm going to write it is that the chapters of this story are going to be 4k-5k words long with each chapter split into loosely connected sections, whether it be the mafia families that take the place of the nobility of Westeros, or the bikers led by Khal Drogo that end up replacing the Dothraki. I suppose it goes without saying that this story is one of those pesky AU stories that usually end up really good or pretty bad. It's up to the readers to decide which one.

Oh, and names like 'The Mad King' or 'Kingslayer' are something that I still intend to use, but in a less literal sense than GRRM. Think of it as those street names that certain infamous gangsters tend to get.

Quote of the day:

**Michael Corleone:** My father is no different than any other powerful man — any man who's responsible for other people, like a senator or president.

**Kay Adams: **You know how naive you sound...senators and presidents don't have men killed.

**Michael Corleone**: Oh? Now who's being naive, Kay?

— _**The Godfather**_

* * *

The funeral had already been over for hours, but Robert Baratheon stood solemn and silent as his eyes rested on Jon Arryn's tombstone, the sight leaving a taste of ash in his mouth. He had grown up in the man's own manor alongside Ned Stark when they were just boys, Arryn had refused to hand them over to the Mad King when the former Godfather of Westeros had started that vicious gang war two decades ago, and the man had stood by Robert's side those twenty years since as his Consigliere when he had taken the Mad King's 'throne' so to speak, to rule the Seven Cities of Westeros County as the Don of Dons, and Godfather of Godfathers. It almost didn't seem real that Jon Arryn was dead, that the man's sickness, whatever it was, had taken him as fast as it did, and Robert frowned as his eyes remained staring at the same spot, the sun glaring in his face. It was odd to think, that the sun could shine so brightly in a time where his heart felt more pain than he always thought would come when old Jon died, but he felt it now, just as clear as he felt the hot sun blaring on, somehow oblivious, or perhaps even uncaring, on what good a man the world had just lost.

Robert shook his head after a moment at just how sentimental he was letting himself become, and after a deep breath, he reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a flask, letting himself have a moment of silence before pouring half of the liquor out in respect for Jon Arryn. He proceeded to then drink the other half of his flask, saying fuck it all to any consequences that could come from his drunkenness, and then he tucked the empty metal casing back into the jacket pocket from whence it came. He frowned in the same way that he had during the funeral at some of the more tender words that had been given about Jon, and Robert shook his head again, before casting his eyes over to his brother-in-law Jaime, who waited for him obediently as ever at a respectable distance over by a stranger's grave that had long ago ceased to receive any more visitors.

"Kingslayer!" the Godfather bellowed, voice as commanding and strong as it had ever been, "Come here!"

Robert's eyes followed Jaime as the 'Kingsguard' as the people had been fond of calling the Godfather's personal bodyguards, made his way over to him, and his gaze remained steady and hard as he came face to face with Jaime Lannister. Truthfully, Robert didn't know why his gaze was so intense as he stared on into Jaime's eyes, perhaps to unnerve him for a reason that even he himself didn't know why he wanted it, but after a minute or so of staring into those Lannister blue eyes with no response, the Godfather simply softened his glare. Jaime, like his two siblings, had grown up under the scrutinizing gaze and condescending voice of the vicious Don Tywin Lannister, and Robert had his doubts that any look that he could muster could ever match up to anything that someone like Tywin could ever give.

Instead, Robert held his hand out expectantly to Jaime, knowing that the Kingslayer would comply without much of a fuss, "Give me your gun."

As expected, Jaime arched an eyebrow, curious as to what Robert wanted to do with his gun, but he complied without a word, pulling his hand gun from the holster inside his own jacket, and Robert gave him a curt nod as Jaime then backed away a few steps, giving a respectful distance so that Robert could have some more time as alone as he could get while he stood in front of Jon Arryn's tombstone. The sunshine was as bright and annoying as it had been all day, and Robert's eyes drifted to the proud falcon and crescent moon etched into the stone of Jon's grave that made up the symbol of the equally proud Arryn mafia family. His hand tightened around the hand gun that his brother-in-law had offered him, and Robert hid his emotions well as he raised his gun into the air and fired it until it was out of bullets; a sort of last hurray for Jon, and Robert's own version of the twenty-one gun salute.

The gunshots had pierced the air of the nearly empty graveyard, and the loud booms that came from the barrel of Jaime's gun was something that he knew would cause even those who were far away to look in the direction where Jon Arryn had been laid to his final rest, if for only one more time. There was nothing to fear from any authorities about his nonchalant use of the gun that still burned in his hand from its use, because in Westeros County the only authority was that of it's Godfather. The police answered to him in the Seven Cities that made up his territory, the mafia Dons and other bosses of the crime families in Westeros obeyed his every command, and the regular citizens of his land recognized the fattened face of their crime Lord and Godfather, all of them bending the knee without hesitation. It was a respect that he alone commanded, but as he stared at the slab of rock in front of him, he knew that it was something he would give up to just have a bit more time with Jon, which was the same thing he remembered thinking the last time he had lost someone he loved dearly, his pondering and wondering drifting to the long ago memory that was Lyanna Stark.

The fat Godfather shook the thoughts away like he usually did, but even so he couldn't stop himself from getting teary-eyed, if only just a bit. Without saying anything, Robert held the gun out to his side, gaze remaining on the tombstone, until Jaime walked back over to him to take the weapon, before the Kingslayer made his way over to his post again. It was kind of a bad joke, Robert thought as he pondered on just where exactly he was standing, Jon Arryn joining Lyanna in the part of his mind that would be forever haunted by regrets and what-ifs, that he was still alive after a lifetime of whoring, killing, hunting, and drinking, where at the same time good people like Jon and Lyanna left the world sooner than he did, despite anything else.

He hesitated for a moment, but after a tired sigh Robert began to walk over to tombstone he had spent most of the day silently staring at. He grazed his hand across the etching in the stone, fingers trailing over the falcon and crescent moon that the Arryns had always been so proud about showing, and he made a mental note that he had to send his regards to Jon's wife Lysa, and their son Robin. Robin was a sickly child, too sheltered and doted on by a mother that was by all accounts a bit off in the head department, but the boy was a mafia Don now, and Robert made a promise to himself that once things were settled in his Seven Cities, and once a replacement for Jon was found, that he would personally make sure that Robin would grow up to become a man his father would be proud of.

His hand rested on the stone now, the Godfather still and unmoving with the exception of languid breaths that escaped him, and Robert had half a mind to fire Dr. Pycelle who, despite all reassurances that whatever it was that Jon Arryn had gone down with was hardly fatal, had been proven wrong at the end of the day. He knew he wouldn't though, Pycelle supposedly being the best doctor in all of Westeros county, but that didn't mean that he couldn't dream about it, if for just a moment. Doctors couldn't save everyone after all, and in the Godfather's own experience, doctors always seemed to have trouble when it came to saving the people that he loved.

He would do right by Jon Arryn, and not just when it came to the man's family. Robert swore to himself that he would also make sure that Jon's legacy remained intact, and for that to be possible he knew that he had to be certain that Jon's successor as Consigliere was someone who was worthy of the title. The eldest of his two younger brothers, Stannis, would certainly expect to be named Consigliere, but Robert knew that Stannis was a better soldier and commander in gang wars than he was a player in the grand Game that was the politics of the mafia.

There was also the Don Tywin Lannister, his father-in-law, and Robert figured that his wife Cersei would try to urge him more than once that the best man to take Jon Arryn's now vacant spot would be her father. Tywin was a smart mafia Don, and a strong and vicious one when the need for it arose, and he was also a rich man that backed Robert and someone that the Godfather would always want in his corner. On top of that, Robert had already cemented a formal alliance through marriage between mafia sects of the Baratheon family and the Lannister family, but the thing that made him reluctant to name Tywin as his Consigliere, no matter what his wife said, was the same thing that Jon Arryn had told him twenty years ago when he had first married Cersei, and that was that he didn't need to make formal alliances with people that he trusted.

Having a wife that he didn't trust was one thing, but having a Consigliere that he couldn't have faith in was a different matter entirely. With that in mind, the Godfather Robert slowly removed his hand from Jon Arryn's tombstone finally, and turned and cast his eyes in the direction of the North. He needed someone that he could trust with his life, Godfather or not, and there was only one person still alive that he had ever let get that close to his heart.

The Godfather then quickly began walking over to the car where his family was waiting for him, and he said nothing to his brother-in-law Jaime when the Kingslayer then walked into step with him. Robert did however spare one last glance over his shoulder to give a parting look at the final resting place of Jon Arryn. He was a man that deserved a more worthy death than the sickness that took him as suddenly as it did, and Robert frowned again, before turning and looking forward once more, perhaps as a way of looking to whatever future was in store for him.

"Kingslayer," the Godfather said at last to the man walking at his side as their shared family came into view, "do you think that your sister would be up for a family trip?"

Once more, Jaime arched an eyebrow in curiosity.


	2. Atlas Shrugged

So, I'm back. First off about this story, yeah it's an AU look at what _**Game of Thrones**_ would be like in a mafia setting, but I am going to freely include references (not spoilers) from the books, and I will change things as I need to, to keep them interesting.

Quote of the day:

**_'Che cosa, "mafia"? (What is this "mafia"?)' _**

**_—Antonio "Nino" Schibetta, Oz_**

* * *

Jon Snow watched in amusement for a moment as the Sister Mordane sat with two young girls at the end of the large banquet table, while the poor nun repeatedly tried and failed to teach his younger half-sister Arya the proper table etiquette that she was expected to show for the big day that was approaching, before he shook his head and went about his way of walking through the large manor of Winterfell, as the servants of his Don father prepared for the banquet to honor the Godfather Robert Baratheon. The Godfather had announced his intention to visit Winterfell about a week ago or so to give the Stark family the chance to make the proper preparations, and it was the hurried and stressful days such as these that made Jon's low position as a bastard something more tolerable than it normally was. Unlike the future mafia Don that was his brother Robb, he wasn't expected to stay at the feast as long as the Godfather felt like drinking and boasting throughout the night, and unlike the rest of his siblings he also wasn't expected to make his appearance known to the Godfather at all, and to then remain in his very best behavior for the rest of the night. According to Mrs. Stark, Jon wasn't even supposed to sit with his family at the banquet for fear of insulting the Godfather and his family, but even so he supposed he could do his best to look on the brighter side of the situation.

His soon to be visiting uncle Benjen would no doubt make it a point to find Jon wherever it was that Catelyn Stark found it appropriate to stick him for the night, and on top of that as long he avoided making a nuisance of himself, which was easy enough for Jon, he would be allowed to drink however much he wanted to that night. Perhaps the spirits he was sure to consume at the banquet would make the time seem to fly by faster than it actually did, or if not, maybe they would at least help Jon to drift across the night with a smile across his face, and a song in his heart. It wasn't that he was a huge fan of alcohol or anything like that, though he was a bit partial to wine, but whenever banquets were held in honor of this Don or that Don, or the Godfather as the case may be, or whenever the subject of the different mafia families came up in Winterfell, it only reminded him of everything his family was, and of everything that he could never be.

The eighteen year old Robb was his older brother by a handful of months and the future Don of the Stark mafia family, and unlike Jon himself, Robb was the legitimate son of the Don Eddard Stark. The next oldest, Sansa, was his younger sister by a few years, and someone who, despite the brotherly affection that Jon had for all of his half-siblings, had never been someone that he had ever talked so much or been particularly close with. His youngest sister Arya was as wild and strong willed as a person could be, who out of all his siblings bore the strongest resemblance to him, and despite his status as an outsider within his own home, despite all his fears and insecurities and worrying about his uncertain future and his uncertain place in his own family, the young Arya would always hold a very special place in his heart. His little brother Bran was his own person despite being so young, the boy always off on some adventure or another, even if it was in his own mind, or climbing everything that the boy could around Winterfell. In truth, Jon had no clue how to interact with Bran if he had to be honest. He was his brother and he loved him, but there always came a point where Jon wondered if he was overstepping any invisible boundaries that he shouldn't, or if he was robbing Robb of any of the duties that only a true and full blooded brother should have for a younger sibling. The youngest of them all though, little Rickon, was a different matter altogether. Rickon was Rickon, and there was little more to Rickon than Rickon being Rickon.

At the end of the day they were a family, and Jon frowned to himself as he walked aimlessly through the manor, Mrs. Stark having always made it a point to have him know that he wasn't as much of a brother, no matter how much he dreamed of it growing up, that he had ever hoped he could be. He was Jon Snow, not Jon Stark, and he would always be the bastard son of the Don Eddard Stark, and of a woman who was more a shadow than a memory to Jon. Neither Jon nor Catelyn had ever known who this woman in Eddard's life was, or on what kind of woman could make even the dutiful Ned Stark forget his honor, and both of them had given up on ever finding out the name of the woman who had shaped their lives so much.

"Jon!" he heard a familiar voice call out from behind him, Jon then stopping and turning around as he smiled, an out of breath Arya stopping in front of him to compose herself.

Before she had a chance to explain why she had dashed over to him, Jon peered behind Arya to see if Sister Mordane was running after her, before bending down to come face to face with his little sister. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

Grinning, Arya gave the answer that she knew Jon would love, and one that Sansa and her mother would hate. "Nope!"

Jon only chuckled again, knowing how much Arya hated being forced to learn how to properly act like a lady, when even her little brother Bran was given more freedom than she was on account of the fact that he was a boy. Not wanting to be the reason she was caught running away, Jon only mussed his sister's hair for a moment as he stood up. "Whatever you do, don't go to the horses."

Confused, Arya could only scrunch her face. "Why?"

"Because," Jon began to nudge her away, hoping she would be free for the day, "that's where I'm going to tell Sister Mordane that you went if she asks me."

Arya dashed off once more, yelling her thanks to him over her shoulder, and Jon smiled in pride at the sight, the girl being a handful, but a handful who always seemed to make everyone's day just a little brighter with her antics. Sure, people pretended that they were annoyed with Arya a lot of the times, but with the exception of Sansa or Sansa's best friend Jeyne Poole, it was an annoyance that quickly melted away into being charmed by the Don's youngest spitfire of a daughter. No matter what anyone else said, Winterfell would be a dimmer place without Arya around to shine like a bright little star in an otherwise empty sky.

"You let her get away with too much." A different, but equally familiar voice called out from the top of the staircase to his right.

Jon smiled at his brother Robb, giving him a quick wave of hello, and walked up the stairs to meet him, figuring if he had nothing else to do, he could at least hang out with his brother for a bit. They could go racing either their horses or one of Robb's fancy cars that their father always frowned at him splurging on, but to no avail. That, or they could hit up the town maybe, which would be fun even if Robb insisted on dragging Theon Greyjoy along for the ride as he always did. Going to the mall for a bit might be interesting, since it was always a blast to watch the amount of girls who fell in love at first with his brother whenever Robb so much as smiled at one of them.

"She wants to be free." Jon said half jokingly, finally reaching the top of the stairs and coming face to face with his brother.

Robb smiled for a moment, wondering just how long it would take for Arya to be caught after this particular escape, before the smile quickly disappeared when he remembered the reason that his father had sent him off in search of his two immediately younger brothers. "Father sent me to find you. Bran too."

Jon only raised an eyebrow, wondering what his father could want at a time where everyone in Winterfell was scrambling about. "What does he need?"

Robb said nothing, and instead just patted the holstered gun that was carefully hiding under the jacket of his suit. It was all the answer that Jon needed, and it was then that he knew that someone was going to die.

* * *

Dany said nothing as she and her brother neared the destination that they had driven to in one of Illyrio's many limousines, and she gave a soft sigh as she stared out of her tinted window, never imagining the day that her own brother would be willing to sell her off like livestock. It wasn't too far-fetched that Viserys would sell her off for an army all things considered, because even though Dany knew that her brother did have a certain affection for her, it was an affection that was outshone by Viserys' illusions of grandeur, and the contempt for most people that was never far from his eyes. As she continued watching the lines in the asphalt of the highway whiz passed her, Dany gave another sigh and supposed that Illyrio was right when he said that marrying someone like Drogo wasn't as bad as it initially seemed. Drogo was strong and was able to protect her, but perhaps best of all, Drogo had thousands of men loyal to him, and had the power to avenge her family.

It was true that he came from no mafia like she and her brother did, but Drogo led his own gang that was apparently fiercer than any that could be found in Westeros County, and who according to Illyrio's promises, when the time was right would lead an army of ten thousand bikers from the Great Stallions Motorcycle Club to reclaim what was taken from the Targaryen mafia family. Her wedding night was a small enough price to pay to see the likes of the false Godfather Robert Baratheon die, or Jaime Lannister who murdered her father when he shot Aerys in the back, and then proceeded to slit the man's throat soon after wards. Viserys had also told her of other monsters of Westeros County responsible for the fall of their family, like the Mountain Gregor Clegane, who along with Amory Lorch, was one of the two hit men of the Don Tywin Lannister who murdered her niece and nephew, before raping her sister-in-law Elia, and then murdering her as well. Other dark tales spoke of the likes of the Don Ned Stark, the Usurper's most trusted dog, who not only helped destroy the last of the true mafiosi loyal to her family, but who also hunted down the last of her father's so called Kingsguard, before slaying them in cold blood.

"Are you sure that he'll like her?" Viserys' nervous voice interrupted her thoughts, and Dany looked over at him, eventually frowning when she saw that he was more focused on Illyrio's opinion than her own.

Illyrio in turn only smiled, the whiskers on the man's large and round face almost twitching as if he had expected to hear some apprehension from Viserys at least once on their journey to meet Drogo for the first time. "Drogo asked me to find him the most beautiful bride that there was to be had in the world," the round man went on to explain, "and our dear Daenerys here is the most wondrous beauty that I have ever laid my eyes upon."

She offered a smile at Illyrio's compliment, but said nothing, instead only taking a moment to make herself more comfortable in the leather seat of the limousine that had been her steed for the past hour or so, as she silently wondered about just what exactly Illyrio wanted from Viserys and herself. Her brother did not share her caution of Illyrio when she brought it up to him in private, and even before the large and flamboyant man had invited them to live in the splendor of his manor, Viserys had ignored her skepticism of the man. Her brother had claimed that Illyrio was a friend who correctly recognized who the true Godfather of the Seven Cities of Westeros County was, and that once they finally reclaimed what belonged to them by right, that Viserys would reward his friend, as he planned to reward all the mafiosi and made men who had remained true to the Targaryen mafia family. Illyrio was only the latest in the long line of people who had taken the two of them in over the years, Dany and her brother by this point in their lives having nothing except for the name Targaryen, but she couldn't help but remain wary of the man, even after all this time having not a clue about who he actually was.

She supposed that it wasn't really anything to bother with for much longer all things considered, but she couldn't help but wonder on just how exactly a person like Illyrio would come to know the President of some biker gang. Dany knew that Illyrio had his hands involved in more than a few illicit activities, and though she had more reason than just her suspicion that Illyrio was involved in human trafficking to be slightly frightened by the man, her brother Viserys had only laughed it off, cruelly stating that whatever lives the sold people had to live wasn't something that mattered, so long as the wine and the money flowed. Still, it made her question what kind of man this Drogo was, if he had befriended Illyrio through the dark world of slavery.

"I," she began before she could realize just what exactly it was that she was doing, the thought of her would be husband involved in such an evil thing souring her opinion of the man she had yet to actually meet, "I don't want to marry him. I don't want to marry Drogo."

She looked away and back outside the window to once more watch the white painted streaks of the pavement on the highway race passed her, but she frowned when with the reflection of the limousine window, she could see Viserys and Illyrio sharing a look, before finally feeling her brother's nails digging into her leg, pinching her as hard as he could. Dany winced as Viserys did so, but she forced herself not to cry out in pain. He would be harsh with her as he always was when she did something he didn't like, but part of her held onto the thought she knew was hopeless that once Viserys saw how much she didn't want to be married to a stranger, that he would be okay with calling the whole thing off.

She knew he wouldn't be okay with it though, and she knew that they needed Drogo's army of men on motorcycles to kill the Baratheons and the Lannisters who united in marriage to murder her family. Her brother Rhaegar who was personally murdered by Robert Baratheon needed vengeance for his life and the lives of his wife and children who were so brutally slain by Lannister men. Her father Aerys needed vengeance for when Jaime Lannister shot him in the back and slit his throat, before letting his father Tywin burn what remained of the Targaryen legacy to the ground. The Kingsguard needed vengeance for when Ned Stark and his made men viciously executed them for the crime of loyalty. Perhaps most pressing of all, Dany and Viserys needed vengeance for themselves, for having everything they had ever known taken away from them by Robert Baratheon and his mad dogs. They needed vengeance and they needed Drogo's army to take it, but they wouldn't have either unless she laid on her back and played the part of wife for a biker.

"What did you say?" her brother breathed heavily, barely containing the rage of an awakened dragon. "What did you say?" he repeated once more, digging his nails so hard into her leg that for a moment Dany thought that he was going to draw blood.

It was then that she turned to him, tears forming in her lilac eyes, her shaking voice cracking as she spoke. "I don't want to marry him." Dany said once again, fearing a slap to her face. "I don't want to."

Viserys stopped pinching then, instead simply resting his hand on the inside of her thigh. No one said anything as he slowly rubbed his hand up and down her inner thigh, with each movement coming just the tiniest bit closer to the warmth between her legs, before he whispered something, which was something that made her more afraid than any of the pinches or the slaps or the punches that he could ever give would make her. "I don't want you to marry him either."

Dany only shut her eyes then, and turned her head away from her brother as he continued to touch her thigh the way he was, and as she started to blink away her tears that wouldn't stop flowing. She remembered the way her brother was touching her from all throughout her life, from her childhood to even now. She knew the looks that Viserys gave her when he thought that no one was looking, and knew that despite even that, that Viserys would see her off to Drogo anyways, no matter how much he wanted to touch her, or do to her. She remembered the way that her brother would creep into her room in the middle of the night, and the sound of the iron hinges of her door screaming out to her, yelling that Viserys had come to her once again. She knew the way he had breathed out his words, and she knew just what exactly it was that Viserys had for her, whenever he looked at her or touched her the way he was doing right now.

He loved her, but not in the way that a brother should.

* * *

So, the Dothraki are going to be bikers. The Night's Watch are also probably going to be bikers as well, since I can't decide whether I want them to be that, or cops. Either or, but right now it's up in the air.


End file.
